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Horror on the Orient Express

Three Bodies In Hotel. Each Man Carries Same Identity. fifi

Come at once. I haven't long.

For god's sake let no-one

follow you. J.A. Smith. fi

The Sedefkar Simulacrum is an

occult artifact of evil power.

It was taken apart and scattered

across Europe at end of the Eigh teenth Century. Retrieve the pieces and destroy it.

The statue was dismembered in

Paris just prior to the French

Revolution. Part of it may still be

in France. The owner was a noble,

Comte Fenalik.

Napoleon's soldiers carried a piece

into Venice when they invaded that city.

Another fragment made its way

to Trieste at the same time. Its fate is unknown. Look up Johann

Winckelmann at the museum there.

There may be a piece in the Kingdom

of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes.

Start at the National Museum of

Belgrade. Dr. Milovan Todorovic is

the curator. ing the Bulgarian War in 1875. At that time things of value were hid den from the invaders, so it may be buried somewhere.

A piece was in circulation in Paris

just after the Great War, and sold to someone from Milan.

The only sure way to destroy the

statue is in its original home, a place in Constantinople known as the Shunned Mosque. A ritual to destroy it utterly is included in a set of documents known as the

Sedefkar Scrolls.

fiflfl fiflfl fiflfl fiflfl fiflfl

Police are today investigating the disappear-

ance of Mr. Henry Stanley, 41, of Stoke New ington, who was reported missing last night by his landlady, Mrs. Constance Atkins.

She alleges that she heard a cry from Mr.

Stanley's upstairs room at eight o'clock. He

did not answer to her knocking, and when she opened the door the room was full of smoke, and there was no sign of him.

Mr. Stanley is not married. He is a noted

train enthusiast and member of the London

Train Spotter's Association.

His disappearance may be a case of sponta

neous human combustion. Police have refused to comment on this. Similar cases have been reported in England earlier this century. The most recent known was that of Mr. J. Temple

Thurston, who burned to death in his home in

Dartford, Kent, in 1919.

It has been revealed that a model train set

found on the scene had been purchased last week from the shop of Mehmet Makryat. That child's toy may have caused the fire.

Readers may recall that three bodies, all

identified as Mr. Makryat, were found earlier this week in a Chelsea hotel room. Police have not ruled out the possibility of a link between the two cases.

My Dear Smith,

From the outset the dread surround

ing the Blood Red Fez was palpable.

The cruel murder of the fez collector

in Rotherhithe who owned the master text The Whispering Fez, the terrible fate of my doomed student Pook, all suggested an artifact of considerable power and a cult of ruthless purpose bent to its exploitation.

Yet even knowing this, you should not

upbraid yourself for the terrors that our quest to destroy the Blood Red

Fez brought upon us all. Of course

I should never have willingly let your

friends journey into such terrible dan ger, but all I had uppermost in my mind was that the awful device The Blood

Red Fez had to be brought quickly to

me so it could be destroyed. Had I known the Fez could duplicate itself or that the very cult which venerated it would be on the train alongside your stalwart allies I should have of course considered otherwise. But by then my own son had been kidnapped by the so- called Children of the Blood Red Fez and their foul leaders, the mad harem girl Nisra the Daughter of Fate and that monstrous fraud Menkaph, past ally of the evil Selim Makryat.

The powers of the Fez - the killer

shadows, the life and soul draining, the creation from its victims of hideous unliving mockeries - were nothing to the terror and awfulness of its dread su- all made were dreadful, and my heart is broken: but for the chance to de- stroy the dread artifact and in doing so thwart the coming forth into our world of that dread entity even here I dare not name, we had no choice.

THE 1893 DIARY:

INTRODUCTORY

HANDOUT

GASLIGHT HANDOUT #1THE 1893 DIARY:

SUMMARY HANDOUT (RIGHT)

The Whispering Fez

Last Thursday night elderly fez collector Mr.

Joshua Devore, aged 70, of No. 3 Blithering

Lane, Rotherhithe, was murdered during what

police say was a burglary of his Rotherhithe residence. Described as eccentric but essentially harmless, Mr. Devore was brutally bashed to death with a blunt instrument and his house ransacked.

Mr. Devore was noted for his collection

of fezzes from all over the world, as well as fez-related literature and memorabilia. No fezzes appeared to be stolen from Mr. Devore's extensive collection of that particular headware.

A glass case containing examples of fez

literature in rare books and manuscripts was overturned and smashed. Police suspect the damage was done in a mad search for money by the perpetrators. Inspector Kendall of

Scotland Yard believes it is the work of a local

burglar gang terrorizing the vicinity. "These rogues are getting bolder. It was only a matter of time before someone was done to death."

The Inspector assured the

reporter that the gang would be apprehended and feel the full measure of the law. Rotherhithe residents are urged to secure their premises at night and to take appropriate precautions towards their persons. : Menkaph has a powerful influence on the gullible. He carries the Blood Red Fez that

Professor Demir described in a nondescript hat

box of dirty brown. Neither he nor his minions seem willing to touch it. : My researches at the British Mu seum Library have called me away from time to time, but my r egular checks on Menkaph and his minions reveal things are unchanged. They are staking out a house in 3 Blithering Lane in

Rotherhithe. I have asked around and learned

a fez collector lives there! Professor Demir says

I should be cautious, but I easily outwitted the

clods Menkaph has guarding the place. I am con- fident none saw me. : Menkaph plans to depart soon on the Orient Express back to Constantinople. I saw him purchase tickets for he and his follow- ers though could not tell when they intended to trave l. There seems to be something else he wants before he can leave London. It could not be the Fez, since he came to London with it. : I have decided to steal the Fez from under Menkaph's nose. While he is busy in Rotherhithe I shall break into his room and steal the Blood Red Fez itself! With this as my prize I can speed back to Constantinople and hand it over to Professor Demir. Imagine the look on his face! ll of the pleasures of all of the harems of all of the worlds shall be yours. fi"fi fi

You must give yourself up to the Blood Red Fez

before it rewards you. Only by wearing the Fez, by risking that your will is weak and you are unworthy and will thus be consumed by the

Fez, can you emerge tested and triumphant and

able to channel its grand and terrible powers.

Once one has mastered the Fez it is possible

to spawn more which are alike in power to the first. This requires of the initial wearer a sacri fice of some small part of the soul, either his own or another's. In this way each day another

Fez can be brought forth into infinity. With

each wearer the Master can achieve power greater than can be believed.

Beware! Others who gain a Fez may try and as

sert themselves as Masters. Heed my advice and keep a small group of acolytes in Fezzes that one may expend when the challenge comes.

Left uncontrolled the Fez will destroy the wear-

er. Once that happens the thing that the Fez wearer becomes may be controlled by other, more powerful Masters of the Fez. They will be as mindless thralls bent only to the Master's desires.

The Blood Red Fez is the gate and the key. If

the blood of a Prince is present the Fez may call forth that which waits Outside. fiflfl" fiflfl

Second Banquet Menu

Welcoming Banquet Menu

Here once stood Aira of the golden domes, the

dream of the shepherd boy Iranon.

As long as Iranon sought Aira he remained eter-

nally young and, for that long, Aira ourished.

When Iranon lost hope he turned old over-

night and walked into the Bnazic quicksands.

That night Aira and all her people vanished.

Oh Dreamers hold fast to your dreams, lest

they too perish.

Royal Feast Menu

It is this paper's sad duty to report that

the millionaire M. Karakov died in his

Monte Carlo villa the day before yesterday.

Doctors said that his heart had been failing

for some time and fi nally gave way. M.

Karakov made his money in munitions sales.

He was reputed to secretly control a vast

web of subsidiary companies, so that many countries in thinking they were selecting between rivals were in fact choosing between two companies controlled by M. Karakov himself. Such was his wealth that he was reputed to have gained one pound for every soldier killed in the Great War.

On his death bed M. Karakov changed

his will, bequeathing his millions to charity.

When asked why he had changed his mind

the dying man replied; “it was all thanks to my friends on the train." His heirs plan to challenge the new will on the grounds of insanity. fiflflfiflfl"

Police have expressed fears that soprano

Caterina Cavollaro may have been abducted

from Milan's Stazione Centrale. The singer has not been seen since she alighted from the train from Paris yesterday at 1pm. Since then she has not returned to her apartment or attended rehearsals at La Scala, where she is due to sing the part of , which opens tomorrow night.

Arturo Toscanini, music director of La Scala, has

confirmed that he has had no contact from the singer since she departed Paris.

Police request that any members of the public

contact them if they have any information on the whereabouts of Signorina Cavollaro. We heartily urge all Milanese to join the search for our most beloved star.

The body of automobile worker Ennio

Spinola was discovered today in a laneway off

Via Tavazzano in Portello, not far from the Alfa

Romeo factory where he worked. Spinola had

been stabbed to death.

Police are pursuing enquiries among workers

in the area. Spinola was an active unionist, and is reported to have been arguing about union matters with other workers in recent days.

Alfa Romeo, 1922

Flavio Conti was a welcome face at last

night's party for patrons and supporters of

La Scala. Mr. Conti has been unwell in recent

months with some erroneous reports that he was afflicted with tuberculosis. It was clearly a much less serious complaint. Mr. Conti has made a complete recovery and was the life of the party. Also present were fellow opera patrons Mr. Nunzio Tocci, Mr. and

Mrs. Matteo Sorrenti, Miss Angela Susco, Mr.

Arturo Faccia, and Mrs. Serena Spagnolo.

The company were entertained by

selections from this week's opera , as performed by members of the cast. Rosario

Sorbello accompanied on the piano. It was a

most glittering occasion. Aida Aida Aida Sir - regarding the disturbances of the last three days, I must report that on the 13th November an unruly mob of Venetians gathered at the San Marco barracks gates. They defied my request to disperse. The reason they gave was that they wanted me to deliver one of my privates, Jean Boucher, to their hands. They claimed that he had caused this grievous plague that afflicts Venice by evil arts. They seemed to genuinely believe this superstitious nonsense. Defying my direct command to depart, they attempted to storm the barracks and seize Boucher. I ordered the men under my command to fire. The first volley was directed over the heads of the mob. No second volley was required, as the crowd then dispersed. I then put the district under curfew. I interviewed Boucher and found him a docile soul of low intelligence and little enterprise. Why, the sole loot he has been able to gather on our glorious march across Europe is an odd, porcelain leg! Boucher seems to think it a prize although I doubt any other man under my command would think so. The next day, a delegation of prominent Venetians of the district visited me, and again requested Boucher be tried for witchcraft. I imprisoned them all as the ringleaders of the mob. There the matter rests. There will be no further such unrest in the district under my command. On the 15th November that occurred which I have described to you privately. I deal with this in detail in personal documents as not fitting for the subject of an official report. fi

God forgive me, God help me, I

had great need of it, so I took it with much trembling and sense of sacrilege. That I, a true Ve netian, should violate our most sacred place! Yet surely some needs stand above all others.

He was weeping, and begging for

help. His statue was broken, and

I had no material to repair it,

for this cursed war makes ev erything scarce. I remembered the old story at last. What else could I do? His grandson died on Monte Grappa, alongside my the only things that comfort him. God forgive me, God trust that I only seek to do my best.

The summary contains spoilers. do not give this

handout to the players if you intend to run the scenario in full. It can however be given out at the scenario's conclusion. fi" fi eflections on the Painting and Sculpture of the Greeks

My love is the pure love of a

worshipper who adores the idol that he has never seen. Until we meet I am in torment. I can do nothing but seek you, plot and plan and yearn for that moment when I hold you in my arms. My heart, my body, burn for you. My life is yours. You hold it in your white, white hands.

To prove my love I killed a man

for you. I took him by surprise.

He thought I was his friend. He

trusted me and I butchered him in the night.

Yet once was not enough. I

killed him a second time, my arms red with blood to the elbows. His al. I wept as I wielded the skin- ning knife.

Still you

were obdurate. So I killed him again. And the man

I murdered to prove my love was

myself. fiflflfiflfl

I lust. I hunger. I thirst. I rave. I

cannot live without you. You are un der my skin. You are my self. I had you once. Then I was perfection, killing and reveling and laughing with joy. I lost you and became a brute. Mad with desire for what I have lost I want to

kill myself but I cannot. My shriveled skin resists the knife-thrust, my dead heart cannot be stopped again. I will kill all those pathetic would-be lovers who stand between us. When I seize you at last I will despoil you, ravish you, consume you. You will be me. I will be perfection, and laugh and kill and revel once more.

I loved you once but now

no more. Life hurt too much.

I sought a way to kill the pain.

I found a path to dreams.

My love for you was killed. I

loved the needle more. The dreamer opened the path to the other world. I tried to sell you, tried to sell what cannot be bought or sold or raised, but I was tricked, swindled, fooled. Now I am trapped in the dreams I once sought and they have become my nightmare.

Life rips the weak apart with lion teeth and

lion claws. I was strong. I glimpsed you from afar and knew I wanted you, knew that you would only give yourself to the strongest of souls. I ripped others' flesh from their bones to rebuild myself. I tore through dreams to find the path to your door. I know that when we meet you will join with me forever. I am unlike all the other fools who whine that they love you. I am strong.

Yet you still shun me, you turn your face

away. I see only one smooth white shoulder. I would bite the skin from that shoulder. I would tear and devour.

I loved your shifting

shape, my dancing, golden dream. I tried to take you for myself. I failed and fell into the abyss. Now you mock me in the ceaseless wind that never lets me rest. You relish my fate, my cruel golden one, and yet I adore you. I cannot pray for my lips are sealed. I cannot speak for my jaw is locked.

Oh give me shelter from

the heartless ones that gib ber in the frozen wastes. I am he who screams at your window. I am the blizzard- driven dead. fiflflfl fl fl fl fl fl fl fl fl fl flfl fl fl fl fl flfl flflfl fl fiflfl fl fl fiflfl"

Dearest Jazmina,

This site is very unusual. I am sure

the structure isn't a tomb. I've learned some things about the Order of the Noble Shield and their histo- ry... most of it should not be made public. Details of the excavation including photographs of the site were leaked to the local press. The story was meant as an attack against my character, but I now fear forquotesdbs_dbs17.pdfusesText_23

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